The One with the Weird Geller Dimension
by otp-is-relative
Summary: Cassie Geller is excited for Monica's wedding, but her fiancé Chandler sure likes to stare. At Monica's insistence, Cassie packs up to spend a couple of nights with… Ross.
1. Chapter 1

TOW The Weird Geller Dimension

Summary: Cassie Geller is excited for Monica's wedding, but her fiancé Chandler sure likes to stare. At Monica's insistence, Cassie packs up to spend a couple of nights with… Ross.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, except for my interpretation of Cassie's character and my invented childhood of the Geller cousins.

Rated T for language, non-graphic depictions of intimacy, and themes that some might find disturbing. Don't like- don't read- don't flame.

A/N: Cassie was only in one episode (7.19: The One with Ross and Monica's Cousin), played by Denise Richards, and she was clearly thrown into the show for eye candy and comedy: but that episode captured my imagination and made me wonder exactly what kinds of cousins she and Ross had been. I tried to stick to canon as much as possible, but the portrayal of Cassie in the actual episode did not mesh well with the character she grew into as I wrote this fic.

I haven't (yet) seen Logan's Run, so I substituted that movie with The Return of the Jedi- another movie that I'd imagine Ross could consider "the sexiest movie ever." Return of the Jedi is when Luke and Leia realize that they! Are! Related! (Oh, Ross.) Also, in the actual episode Monica says that Cassie is supposed to be 25, but since I wanted her, Ross, and Monica to be closer to the same age, she'd be more like 30 or 31.

o0o0o0o0o

Cassie Geller hadn't seen her cousins since she and Monica were thirteen and Ross fourteen.

When most people saw Cassie, they saw a beautiful woman whose long blond hair dazzled when she shook it out. If they could get beyond the hair, they saw an impeccable sense of style: sophisticated clothes with just enough reveal to tantalize, and just enough conceal to remain professional and classy.

What they didn't know was that she had only started to learn how to dress when she was nineteen or so. Before that she'd been so hopelessly unstylish that no one saw beauty in her. She'd worn oversized T-shirts and kept her hair in a braid. She'd had braces until she was seventeen. She hadn't even kissed a boy until she was eighteen, and he was a guy she'd met through a Dungeons and Dragons campaign during her freshman year of college. It had taken years of effort for her to develop confidence in her femininity; to make up for the teenage years spent playing video games, rolling many-sided dice, reading comics and Asimov books in the half-dark, and spending time with a lot of boys and a few girls of questionable hygiene and even more questionable grasp on reality.

That's right- Cassie Geller was an even bigger dork than Ross.

They'd all lived on Long Island before Cassie and her family moved away to Poughkeepsie (geographically quite close, but to New Yorkers, half a planet away). Cassie was actually a second cousin to Monica and Ross, but since they lived twenty minutes away from each other, their families were close. Cassie had played with Monica, since they were the same age and in the same grade: but as she'd gone through the motions of bossy Monica's clean, serene, and neat-as-a-pin tea parties, she'd always been a little bit bored. At night Monica lost her bossiness and the two girls would exchange silly inside jokes and make fun of every single member of their shared family that was unfortunate enough to live close by. They could spend hours abusing Ross as they lay under layers of Monica's pink-rose Laura Ashley blankets and gazed up at the glow-in-the-dark stars.

Monica and Cassie were both eager to please each other, quick to say "I'm sorry" and to defer to the other's preference, but it was all an intricate game of politeness, like in Monica's tea parties. Monica wanted to be recognized as the politest, most helpful, and "best" girl. Cassie didn't much care for that, but something about Monica drove her to compete for the same thing.

Cassie had no desire to please Ross.

When they were seven and eight, an age which most kids decided they were too cool for Legos, Ross would build the most intricate and implausible towers he could imagine. These constructions would be held up by a one-square block as precariously as if by a silken thread. Ross would squint and calculate for minutes at a time before adding a new piece, and then his eyes would widen to colossal proportions as he waited to see if it would hold together, or fall.

Cassie would watch, hidden behind a pillar of their wood-paneled, brown-couch-stuffed basement, smirking as she waited for the perfect time to attack. She'd be unwillingly impressed at his constructions, which became more and more outlandish, but nothing could stop her from wanting to knock his work down. At the opportune moment, as Ross was about to declare himself finished and yell upstairs for everybody to come down and look, she'd tiptoe out behind him, pounce on his back, and sink her teeth into his neck. He'd yelp and flail, and it would all come tumbling down.

Sometimes she felt bad. But an irresistible impulse made her do it over and over. Getting to him was just too easy.

When she was nine, she went too far and made ten-year-old Ross cry. She'd felt her stomach tighten at the sight of the big boy, six inches taller and seven and a half pounds heavier than her, with tears filling his huge dark eyes, gulping and desperately trying not to let the tears fall, knowing that it was unacceptable for a ten-year-old to cry, especially a boy. Shame and hurt and anger warred in his face. He resolutely did not look at Cassie, and fortunately no adults came running down to yell at Cassie or to shame Ross further. She knew that he was bracing himself for further taunts from her about the tears. But at that moment, she resolved to never tease Ross again.

It didn't stick.

She just couldn't stay away from Ross. And because she was so used to teasing him, any attempt that she made to be nice and friendly with him felt awkward to her. To hide the awkwardness she'd snap back into the pattern of meanness and taunting. Ross would meet her stammering attempts at friendliness with suspicion, which was often what drove her over the edge.

It was only Ross who brought out this side of her. To everyone else, she was polite. At school she was a doormat, the butt of a constant, low-flowing stream of teasing. She'd yearned to be the one who would carry around teddy bears from several different boys on Valentine's Day, but she also knew that it would never happen. Cassie was not a pretty girl. She was a smart girl, a studious girl who made straight As and read ahead in her textbooks for fun, a quiet girl who never responded to ill-treatment with aggression.

Maybe her drive to annoy Ross wouldn't go away because Ross was an easier target than she was. Maybe it was because she was so tired of being at the bottom of the totem pole that she yearned to take out her anger on someone. She didn't have the guts to stand up for herself against bullying at school. It didn't take any guts to bully Ross. The best and worst part was that Ross could never leave. He was family. He didn't have a choice.

When Cassie wasn't around Ross, she would berate herself for the way she treated him. She actually quite liked Ross. She knew she had more in common with him than with Monica or the other cousins. They liked some of the same books. Both of them loved school, and they both listed science and history as their favorite subjects. They both read comics. Cassie would have liked nothing better than to lie out under the stairs with Ross in the middle of the night, reading the latest Green Lantern together with a flashlight as the rest of the house slept.

But as soon as she saw him, every time he and Monica and their parents came over, she knew she was doomed. His face might as well have read "Tease Me" across the forehead. Before he'd even step over the threshold of her house, Cassie would be on him, tugging his ears and poking his plump cheeks, with a fresh taunt ready at the tip of her tongue.


	2. Chapter 2

As Cassie boarded her plane to New York, she envisioned meeting her cousins again. Of course Monica would be bossy, but Cassie was used to that, and it was her wedding after all. Seeing Monica in a wedding gown would be a treat. She'd seen pictures of Monica in the Geller Yeller and been amazed at how beautiful her cousin had become after losing all of the extra weight, though Cassie had always been conscious of the charm of Monica's dark eyes and exquisite little features. She knew that Monica had fulfilled some of her childhood dreams: she had become a chef at an expensive little New York restaurant, and she'd met what Cassie could only assume was the man of her dreams.

Ross, according to the family newsletter, had become a paleontologist. He'd been married, too. When the wedding announcement arrived in the family newsletter, Cassie had been shocked. She'd been only 21, and Ross had been 22, but Ross's parents had written that he and Carol had dated through of college. Cassie had been invited to that wedding but was studying abroad in France at the time.

In fact, Ross had been married more than once. When Cassie saw that he and Carol had divorced, due to "different interests" (maybe Ross was too geeky for Carol, who looked like a jock), she'd felt bad for Ross, knowing that he must have taken it very hard. The second marriage announcement took her by surprise: he was going to marry a British girl named Emily after an engagement of mere weeks. She was invited to that wedding too but at the time she couldn't afford the plane ticket to London on such short notice. But after that announcement, Emily's name never showed up in the Geller Yeller again. When Cassie had talked on the phone with Monica, settling the details of their visit, she'd asked about Emily. Monica had said that the marriage hadn't worked out, that it was complicated, and that it was probably best if Cassie didn't mention Emily's name to Ross, as it was still a sore subject more than a year after the fact.

Cassie had been struck by how Ross had grown up in the pictures printed in the Geller Yeller. He still looked like himself, a little goofy, but now he was a handsome sort of goofy, tall and broad-shouldered, his features unchanged but in nicer harmony on his face, with a bit of shyness remaining in his smile and the way he held his head.

Cassie worked as a manager at a yoga studio. It was not something she had ever imagined doing, but she'd picked up yoga in college and also realized that she had a knack for business management. Though she liked her job and it paid well, she was a bit jealous that Ross had become a paleontologist. Cassie's nerdiness was something she had to mask around her friends; Ross's nerdiness was his career.

o0o0o0o0o0o

When they were ten and eleven, Ross developed a backbone. He started making fun of Cassie, too. At first she was startled, then angry, and then she enjoyed it. She no longer felt guilty about taunting Ross when he had a comeback ready for her. Sometimes, both of them went a little too far and hurt the other's feelings, but they would always recover within an hour or two. They referred to themselves as sworn enemies, but no sworn enemies spent so much time together off by themselves. Sworn enemies also did not have midnight adventures. Cassie would sneak out of Monica's room in the middle of the night, when Monica's soft snores had deepened and she knew the girl would not notice, and go down to the kitchen, where Ross would be waiting for her.

Usually, they'd do nothing more than sit on the kitchen island, drawing together. Cassie taught Ross about DnD, which she'd just started playing, and Ross drew pictures of the different races of characters as she described them. Ross was a better artist than Cassie, but he kept both of their drawings in the same folder, which Monica insisted on organizing by sections: Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Star Trek (mostly Cassie's: Ross wasn't nearly as big of a Trekkie as she was), Dungeons and Dragons, Science Boy (Ross's comic book series that he started when he was twelve), and Miscellaneous. Monica had no idea when the cousins would do the drawings, and she didn't ask: she was too excited about having something new to organize. Ross resented Monica's meddling, preferring that the drawings be sorted chronologically. Cassie wanted to keep the drawings for herself and often considered stealing the folder.

Sometimes she and Ross would use their midnight meetings to rush out into the woods and climb trees. Ross fashioned flashlights that they could wear on their heads out of duct tape and rubber from a destroyed tire. Cassie always had to help Ross to find footholds amongst the branches, for which she teased him until he picked her up and threatened to drop her twenty feet down. Sometimes they'd play on the deserted, forgotten playground that they'd found one night: a playground that hadn't been maintained for at least thirty years, with rusty chains that squeaked as the cousins went back and forth on the swings, and monkey bars that rotated so it was almost impossible to hold on.

They'd play thumb war, which Cassie usually won. They'd arm wrestle, which Ross usually won. They'd have tickle fights on the muddy forest floor, which would always end in a breathless stalemate. She knew all of his 22 foolproof tickle-spots that would get him pleading for mercy. He knew a few of hers, and usually took advantage of the one on the left side of her stomach, which would make her giggle and screech and flail wildly until she knocked his glasses off. Fortunately for her, he never discovered the worst one: the sensitive area of her neck, just under her right ear.

Monica would wrestle with Ross too, and she generally won because of the weight advantage. Unlike gangly Ross and lanky Cassie, Monica had been a cherub of a child, and when she was around nine she started putting on lots of weight that took her from 'pleasantly plump' (according to Aunt Judy) to overweight.

She and Cassie did not wrestle together. The one time Monica came down to the basement and saw Ross and Cassie wrestling, tumbled amongst the corduroy ruins of their couch cushion fort, she stared with a strange expression. That night before she fell asleep, she said that maybe they were too old to wrestle with boys anymore. Cassie wanted to know what she meant, but Monica fell silent, and soon she was snoring.


	3. Chapter 3

Cassie vividly remembered the last time she'd hung out with Ross and Monica before moving. The whole family had had a three-day picnic on the water. Aunt Judy's grandmother had left her a little waterfront cabin in her will.

As usual, the kids were left mostly to their own devices, while the adults talked and drank and lazed around on lawn chairs. Other Gellers were there too, along with some of Cassie's cousins from her mom's side: prissy girls a couple of years younger than Cassie, who immediately clung to Monica, and hyper little boys too small for the teenagers to give them any notice, who were perfectly happy to play amongst themselves after they realized that Ross wasn't going to play football with them all weekend long.

Cassie was participating in a hula hoop contest with Monica, her cousins Sandra and Cara, and, strangely enough, Uncle Jack. Monica had to win, but this was one area in which Cassie easily had her beat. With each successive loss, Monica kept changing the rules for victory: best two out of three, best three out of five, best four out of seven. By the eighth round, Sandra and Cara had retreated under their pink parasols to drink lemonade, Monica and her father were neck in neck, and Cassie, who'd been winning time after time, was contemplating faking a loss just so she could do something else. Then she saw Ross out by the canoes. He had a beach bag slung over his shoulder, and he was untying a knot.

"Uncle Jack, what's Ross doing with a boat all by himself?" asked Cassie innocently.

"Oh no," said Aunt Judy over her mimosa and under her white wide-brimmed hat. "He'll drown! You know he can't swim very well."

"He's fine, Judy, for God's sake. The boy is going to start high school in September," said Uncle Jack. His concentration broke, and his hoop fell.

"YEAH! Suckaaaa!" shouted Monica, punching the air while still rotating her hips and keeping her hoop up.

"He's all alone and I don't see him wearing a life vest."

Cassie sensed an opportunity. "Aunt Judy, I can go with him," she said. "I'm on swim team."

"I would certainly feel better if my only child wasn't out on the water all by himself," mused Aunt Judy.

"Hey!" said Monica.

"I forfeit," said Cassie, letting her hoop cyclone down around her ankles. "You win."

At once Monica's face lit up, her mother's slight forgotten. Cassie ran out to join Ross.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"What's it look like? I'm going canoeing."

"By yourself?"

"Yeah," said Ross. "Why?"

"What's in the bag?" she asked.

"Books."

"Well duh. What books?"

"Everything," said Ross. "I want to row out into the water and just drift, reading books, until I get hungry. Then I'll come back."

Cassie looked around. There were no other canoes. She wanted to join him, but if she just came out and asked, he'd shoot her down just to make her mad. Besides, she was still sore that Ross had gone to see the premiere of Return of the Jedi with his friends two months before and hadn't invited her. He'd given her a little wave from his tent, but she'd ignored him, walking by with her nose in the air, accompanied by a few kids from her DnD campaign. As they camped out, making Ramen over the crank-powered hot plate that one of the boys had built, she kept repeating to herself that she was having much more fun in this tent than Ross and his friends.

"I bet I can row faster than you," she said.

"Whatever," said Ross. Cassie could see the signs, though. He was taking the bait.

"Pity there's no other canoe for you to try to prove me wrong," she continued. "Hopeless though such an attempt would be."

"I can so row faster than you," said Ross.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," said Cassie. She turned and sauntered a few steps away before she felt his hand close on her upper arm. She fought down her grin as she looked over her shoulder.

"Get in," he said.

His voice had broken and sounded completely different from last year. Cassie was still getting used to the way he occasionally sounded like a grown man.

She climbed into the canoe. Ross leaned his bag of books on the post. Then he climbed in after her.

"I'll go first," he said. "We'll time how fast I can cross to the other side."

"You're on," she said. She started her stopwatch. Then she yawned and leaned back, slitting her eyes at him. He furiously rowed, glaring at her as he pumped his arms. Ross was stronger than he had been before. He'd started taking karate after he'd been mugged outside the comic shop last winter. Cassie still mourned the loss of that incomplete Science Boy issue that had been in his bookbag at the time.

"This is nice," trilled Cassie in a cruel imitation of Aunt Judy's affected tones. "A relaxing, leisurely, slooooow boat ride."

Ross's face went red. Cassie knew that look. Red Ross.

He rolled up the sleeves of his bright yellow T-shirt and pumped his arms even harder. This just made the ride more turbulent, getting splashes of water all over Cassie's legs. The brackish water stung her. She'd just started shaving. She suspected that Ross knew what was happening, but she kept up her smirk. She would not wince.

Finally he reached the other side. She stopped the time. "12 minutes and 17 seconds," she announced. "Just like your mile."

"Hey! My mile is nine and a half minutes even," said Ross.

"Cute. Mine's eight fifty."

"Your turn," Ross practically spat. "Let's see how well you row."

Cassie had been practicing on the rowing machines at the gym. She enjoyed the repetitive, meditative movement. It was not the same as canoeing.

Her arms were exhausted after thirty seconds of giving it all she had. Determined to show no sign of weakness to Ross, she forced herself to keep going. Ross trash-talked at her the way she'd taunted him, but she could tell that he was worried that she might win.

"You know," said Ross, "men have greater upper body strength than women."

"You think-" she puffed- "you're a man?"

"I know it."

"That's" – gasp- "a laugh."

"If you think I'm a little boy, then you'll feel even more ashamed when you lose to me."

"You're older than me!" Almost there. More than halfway there.

"Age doesn't matter. I am superior to you in every way."

"That doesn't even-" –pant- "dignify a response."

"Only because you can't deny it."

They went back and forth, Cassie's replies increasingly laborious, until she finally reached the edge.

"All right!" she said. "So how much did I beat you by?"

Ross looked down at the stopwatch in horror.

"What's the matter? Can't deal with your own inadequacy?"

"I forgot to start the time," he said.

Cassie's jaw dropped. "No."

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice small.

Cassie snatched the watch away from him, certain that he was lying because she'd beat him.

He hadn't been. The stopwatch still read "00:00."

"Doesn't matter," said Cassie. "I'll just do it again."

"Huh?" said Ross. "Aren't you tired?"

"I don't get tired," said Cassie. "Make sure you actually start the time now, okay?"

"I don't think that's fair," said Ross. "I mean, I'd rather beat you fair and square, and you're exhausted."

"I told you, I don't get tired," said Cassie. "Aaaand, start!" She took a deep breath and began rowing again.

"Cassie, I-"

"START!"

Ross started the time.

By the time she got to the middle, she was huffing and puffing so hard that she couldn't breathe. She had to stop. She reined in her oars.

"I give up," she said. "I can't."

Ross looked at her sympathetically, but his voice came out taunting. "Told ya."

She glared at him. Sweat drenched her forehead and was falling into her eyes. She wiped it with the back of her hand. "If you had the IQ to operate a stopwatch properly, then you'd know that I can well and truly beat you when the competition is fair."

"We'll just have to try again tomorrow when we're both fresh," said Ross.

The idea of rowing again made Cassie feel slightly sick. "Do you have any water?"

"I had a bottle," said Ross, "but it's in my bag."

Both of them looked back at the small green rectangle leaning against the weathered pole.

Cassie saw the shapes of people jumping around. She couldn't distinguish individual words, but the shouting voice had to be Monica's. Thirsty as she was, she was unwilling to go back so fast.

"Oy. Monica's making them do a sack race," said Ross.

"Oy," agreed Cassie.

"Actually," said Ross, "I might have some water."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he said. "In fact, I think I see water all around us."

Ross's hands closed around her waist. She felt herself being lifted up, and before she could register what was happening, she'd been projectiled out into the water.

"Ugh!" She fought her way to the top. Ross laughed at her. She thrashed a bit, regaining her bearings, before she swam back to the edge of the canoe. She grabbed it and climbed back up, her loose braid coated in filth, coarse grains in her eyes, her mouth tasting of the nasty water. Her denim shorts were soaked. Her white T-shirt clung to her skin. She realized that Ross could probably see the shape of her bathing suit top- her very first bikini- and was suddenly embarrassed.

"Water, water, everywhere," taunted Ross. "But not a drop to drink."

"It's 'nor any drop to drink,' fool," said Cassie, her acid tone masking her embarrassment. "I'd throw you off the edge, too, except I know you can barely swim, and your parents will be mad at me if you died of drowning at the age of fourteen. Not that you wouldn't deserve it."

Cassie attempted to fix the tangle that was her hair. Her legs itched and stung. Goosebumps had risen on her arms. She picked at her wet T-shirt. The sun glared into her eyes, but did nothing to soothe the fact that she was shivering all over.

"Here," said Ross. She looked up. He was taking off his shirt. "Wear it. It's dry." He handed it to her.

She blushed at the idea of peeling off her shirt and exposing her brand-new teal bikini in front of a boy. Sure, Ross was her cousin- but he was still a boy.

She also hated the idea of Ross being the first boy to see her in a bikini.

"I hate you," she mumbled. She twisted away from him so he'd only see her back as she took off her shirt. She shook it behind her, hoping a few crystals of estuarine filth would get into his eyes. She looked over her shoulder, took his lime green T-shirt from him, and pulled it on. She had to admit that it felt nice, even though she knew that the warmth was due to having just been on Ross.

"Are you wearing a bikini?" he asked curiously.

She made fists of her hands and knocked her wrists together twice at him: the Geller fuck-you that Monica had taught her last year. She saw that he was no longer quite as scrawny as he used to look with his shirt off. There were a few chest hairs and suggestions of muscle definition all over.

She looked away. Her face and neck were very warm.

"What, you're not talking to me now?" said Ross, irritation rising in his voice. "I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry!"

"I'm taking a nap," said Cassie. She lay back against the wood of the canoe and closed her eyes. She would not help him row them back now. Oh, no, she wouldn't.

The insides of her shut eyelids glowed red against the sun. She heard the croaking of frogs, the lapping of water, and the sizzle of a barbeque. She caught a whiff of grilling corn. The shouts of her aunts and uncles and other cousins were comfortably far away. Without quite intending to, she drifted off to sleep.

When she opened her eyes, the sun had shifted slightly. Ross was watching her. She couldn't read the expression on his face.

Before she could say anything, Ross picked up his oars. This time he did not look at her or speak to her at all as he brought them back to shore.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

That midnight, he was waiting for her downstairs in the cabin kitchen.

"Punch me," he said softly.

"What?" she said, as she poured herself a glass of orange juice.

"You never got back at me for throwing you in the water. Punch me."

"I'm not going to punch you, Ross," she sighed. She drained her glass in one gulp and placed it in the sink. "But I _am _going to tickle you."

"Hey!" Ross had no defense. Her fingers reached for every single one of those 22 spots until he sank to the floor. She sat on top of him, triumphant, as he moved and squirmed under her, unable to wrest himself from the grip of her strong legs. She tortured him for a good ten minutes before she stopped for breath.

"Satisfied?" asked Ross.

She saw his expression, as though he were still being tortured, though she'd stopped moving her fingers. It occurred to her that she might be too heavy for him. She started to get up, but he gripped her waist, flipped her over, and began tickling her.

"Ross!" she yelped between giggles. "You can't do this! That was my pay-back!"

"We didn't shake on it, did we?" he murmured into her ear, mercilessly working his fingers over that spot on her left side. His eyes blazed down at her. Dimples formed around his grin. She caught a whiff of him- Old Spice and mouthwash and hair gel. He tickled her neck, and for the first time, he caught the spot just under her right ear.

Resistance was futile. He had both of her wrists in one callused hand, pinned above her head against the cabin's wood floor. His knees locked her legs together. Except for the involuntary convulsions of her squirming waist, shimmying shoulders, thrusting hips, and curling toes, she was immobilized. Helpless. His fingers tickled and tickled and tickled that spot until she cried.


	4. Chapter 4

Cassie was jolted out of reminiscing about that 1983 summer by the flight attendant's voice announcing landing. She realized that she was flushed. She drained the water in her clear plastic cup.

She hadn't understood what was happening at the time. When she thought of it now, she felt shame. Ross was her cousin. That he should have been a part of her earliest sexual awakening was disgusting. Taboo, even.

Try as she might, she couldn't rationalize it away. There had been a thing between her and Ross that summer. She'd withdrawn from physical closeness with Monica, preferring to sleep on an air mattress instead of in a queen bed with her, but she and Ross got closer and closer. They didn't "do anything" per se. But many of the situations she'd been in with Ross, that summer, were similar to the situations in which she'd found herself with guys in college, just prior to doing things that cousins didn't do.

It was because she was young, Cassie decided. She was thirteen, old enough to be curious, but nerdy and unattractive enough that she was still teased and ignored by boys at school (except for the largely asexual ones with whom she played DnD). She'd just had her bat mitzvah and was supposed to be a woman, and the idea of being a woman had gone to her head. She hadn't understood that there were boundaries between cousins: boundaries that she and Ross asymptotically approached all summer long. It was because she was thirteen and Ross was fourteen, both of them were attention-starved geeks, and neither of them knew any better.

Cassie regretted thinking about that summer when she was about to meet Monica and Ross. She hadn't thought about it in such detail ever since her family had moved to Poughkeepsie in the fall. On top of that, she was single at the moment and had not brought a wedding date. She hoped she would be able to suppress those thoughts when she saw Ross again. She hoped he wouldn't remember at all.

o0o0o0o0o

Cassie got off the plane and saw a girl with golden-blond hair at the gate. Monica mentioned that Rachel might pick her up at the airport, as she would be too busy with wedding preparations to spend time away. Monica and Rachel had become friends after Cassie had moved away, Monica had explained on the phone, and they had lived together until Chandler (the fiancé) had moved in. Now Rachel lived across the hall with their friend Joey. Also, Rachel and Ross were on-again, off-again. At the moment they were 'off.'

"Are you Rachel Green?" asked Cassie, approaching the young woman.

"Yes. You must be Cassie. Hi." Rachel held out her hand and smiled warmly. Cassie shook it, instantly liking her. She had a nice smile, a good tan, and lovely blue eyes.

Cassie had everything she needed in her carry-on, so they went right outside to grab a taxi. In the back seat, Rachel twisted around to her and interrogated her about her life, and what it had been like to grow up with Monica and Ross. Cassie would have preferred to ask Rachel about how Monica and Ross were doing now, but Rachel's curiosity was so genuine that she found herself answering questions and telling funny stories about the Geller cousins the whole ride down. She didn't say anything about the summer of '83, and she was also careful not to mention wrestling with Ross, but she did say that she and Ross had teased each other and were nerds together.

They arrived, and Rachel, who had a key to Monica's place, installed her into the guest room. Monica's place was beautiful: painted in a shade of lilac and impeccably decorated to feel both young and homey. The potpourri, plug-in air fresheners, and candles were coordinated to make the place smell like an enchanted garden of roses and honeysuckles, with a hint of lemon Pine-Sol contributing an agreeable tart counterpoint to the sweetness. Rachel asked Cassie if she wanted to freshen up. Cassie nodded, and Rachel opened a linen closet. Cassie gasped at the sheer number of towels.

"Eleven categories of towels," said Rachel. "Everyday, fancy, guest, fancy guest… I don't know. I can't remember them all. I guess you're 'fancy guest.'" Rachel handed Cassie a lavender-colored bath towel with cream scalloped embroidery.

"Being Monica's roommate must not have been easy," said Cassie. Rachel rolled her eyes and smiled.

"I guess she hasn't changed," she said.

"Where is she now?"

"Oh, she and Chandler won't be back til nineteen hundred," said Rachel. "I mean. Seven."

"She has you on military time?" said Cassie. "I'm shocked. Not surprised, but shocked."

Rachel laughed. "That's Monica."

"Is, uh, Ross around?"

"Ross is teaching a late class. Believe me: Monica is not happy with him for refusing to cancel it."

"Oh," said Cassie.

"I'm sorry. I have to go. I don't want to leave you all alone, but I have maid-of-honor duties, and Monica threatened to chop off my metaphorical balls if I forget anything," said Rachel. "But feel free to raid the fridge or watch TV."

Cassie slipped into the bathroom as soon as Rachel had disappeared. She had a while to herself. As eager as she was to see Monica and Ross, and to meet Chandler and their other friends, she was also happy to have some time to decompress from her flight and the ill-advised trip she had made down memory lane.

Monica's bathroom was stocked with an impressive assortment of fragrant soaps, shampoos and shave gels, all in the family of rose and honeysuckle. Cassie knew Monica would want nothing to disrupt the olfactory harmony of her apartment. As Cassie looked through them, allowing the shower to carve rivulets into her scalp and drip off her three-foot-long hair, she found one single, solitary men's soap. Irish Spring. She smiled at the thought of Monica allowing her hapless fiancé this one concession to his own personality- if the choice was indeed his.

As she luxuriated in the bubbles of soap and shampoo and felt the grime and stress leave her, Cassie found herself wishing she had a boyfriend with her. She was sure this wedding would be a stressful experience, since Monica was apparently the exact same (only more so), and having a nice guy around to ease the tension would be useful. Also, she would feel better if she had a boyfriend next to her when she met Ross. She wondered if Ross was seeing anyone right now. She hoped so. Then the tension would only be from her end, and she would only need to manage herself.

But then again, Monica had said that he and Rachel were on-again, off-again, and now they were in an 'off' period.

That didn't mean Ross wasn't seeing someone. After all, Cassie reasoned, Ross was entitled to see other people if he and Rachel were on a break.

She stayed in the shower for a long, long time, just enjoying it. When she finally came out, a towel around her body and another holding up her hair, she saw sneakers, a pair of jeans, and half of a T-shirt bending into the fridge.

"Ross?" she said timidly.

The man straightened up. "Oh hey Mon. I was just, uh, I was just- you're not Monica!"

He wasn't Ross. He was a swarthy Italian man, around their age, and he would have been attractive were it not for the peanut butter stains on his T-shirt and his clueless expression.

"I'm Cassie," she said. "Ross and Monica's cousin."

"Joey," said the man. "How YOU doin'?" He gave her a smirk and a nod, moving his eyes up and down her body.

The man had animal magnetism, for sure, but it was very much offset by the childishness.

"I'm okay," said Cassie. "I have to get dressed."

"No need," said Joey, still with that lust-filled expression.

"Excuse me?" Cassie scoffed.

"I'm just across the hall if you need me," said Joey. "If you want some lemonade." He winked.

"Sure, thanks," said Cassie, bemused. She disappeared into the guest room, opened her bag, and threw on jeans and a nice top. She was pretty sure she wouldn't be going out anywhere, but she didn't want to meet people in pajamas. Though she'd already managed to meet one of them in a towel. Not that Joey had seemed to mind. But that wasn't the impression she had wanted to make.

She came out, poured herself a glass of orange juice, and turned on the TV. A Seinfeld rerun was on. She watched it as she let her hair air-dry. Jerry and Elaine sat on opposite sides of a couch, verbally dancing around the idea of sleeping together again. Cassie always liked the chemistry between Jerry and Elaine. They could talk about anything without embarrassment: as though they had not only been physically intimate, but had seen all of the good and bad sides of each other's personalities, and now accepted each other completely.


	5. Chapter 5

At last, Monica and Chandler came home. Cassie knew that Monica had slimmed down a lot, and she had seen many pictures of her via the Geller Yeller, but it was still a shock to see her looking so lovely in person. She was svelte, in a deep V-neck red shirt, a black skirt, and knee-high boots that looked like they might hurt. She hugged Cassie warmly, and then drew back to drink her in with her familiar deep blue eyes.

"Oh my God!" squealed Monica. "You're so gorgeous!"

"Thank you. So are you," said Cassie honestly. Monica beamed and blushed.

"Oh my God. Introduce us," said Chandler.

"Cassie, this is Chandler, my fiancé. Chandler, this is Cassie, the cousin I was telling you about."

"Nice to meet you," said Cassie, holding out her hand and sizing him up. He was nowhere near as attractive as Monica, but Monica was glowing with happiness, so he must have a wonderful personality. As he shook her hand, Cassie felt an itch on the back of her neck. She reached back to fix the label of her shirt, bringing a curtain of hair in front of her shoulder as she did so.

"Chandler!" snapped Monica.

"I'll be right with you," said Chandler. Cassie looked at him, confused, and noticed that he had a glazed look in his eyes- similar to Joey's, except Chandler's looked accidental.

Monica smacked his backside, making an audible 'thwap.' Chandler released Cassie's hand but did not look away from her. Monica was glaring at him, her hands on her hips. Cassie did not envy Chandler in that moment.

"Cassie, a word?" said Monica, beckoning her into the guest room.

"Look," said Monica, after she'd shut the door. "I fully understand if you are uncomfortable staying here, after that disgusting display of idiocy from Chandler."

"Oh, I'm sure it'll be fine," said Cassie, though truthfully she did feel awkward. "I've been looking forward to catching up with you."

"We'll have plenty of time for that," said Monica. "But for now it's probably best if you stay with Ross."

"Oh," said Cassie, realizing what was happening. Monica was dismissing her.

Monica's eyes softened. "I'm sorry, Cassie. It's not your fault. I'm just worried that this fiancé of mine will get cold feet. He's always been a commit-o-phobe, and I just don't think having another beautiful woman around so close to the wedding will help things any."

"Thanks," said Cassie. "I understand. I'm sorry if I did anything to-"

"No. It wasn't you," said Monica. "But trust me. After the wedding, once my leash is firmly and tightly around my husband, you are welcome to visit any time."

o0o0o0o0o

Monica escorted Cassie to Ross's apartment building across the street. Cassie occupied her thoughts with how quaint it was that all six of these friends were always "across something" from one another: Rachel and Joey lived catty-corner to each other in an apartment across the hall from Chandler and Monica's, who lived across the street from Ross and could see inside his window, and Phoebe, who lived in the same building as Ross, probably lived some variant of 'across from' him. Cassie longed to meet Phoebe, another former roommate of Monica's, and supposedly the weirdest of the bunch. She wanted to know what kind of weirdness Monica was able to tolerate.

Cassie asked Monica questions about Phoebe and Joey and Rachel. Monica answered them briskly, and walked even faster. Cassie couldn't help but feel a little hurt that Monica was so eager to get rid of her and back to her errant fiancé. She hoped that Chandler would be a better husband than he was a fiancé, if he found it appropriate to ogle his bride-to-be's relatives. But she couldn't see Monica putting up with disrespect or ill-treatment. Monica knew how to take care of herself. Maybe Cassie had just gotten a terrible first impression of a funny, sweet, and charming guy.

Monica buzzed into Ross's building and frog-marched Cassie up three flights of stairs, apparently forgetting that running up stairs two at a time was harder when handling a carry-on heavy with wedding clothes. She knocked on Ross's door, heard the click of unlock, and turned the knob before he could.

"Ross, can Cassie stay with you?"

Cassie hung back against the wall, out of sight, in case Ross wanted to refuse but would feel awkward doing so if he knew she was there.

"Cousin Cassie?" said Ross. "Of course. But why isn't she staying with you?"

His voice hadn't changed much, Cassie reflected, as she half-listened to Monica deliver a peevish explanation that included the term "Pervy McPurverson." It had just gotten deeper.

"Uh, okay, that's cool," said Ross. "Where is she?"

"She's right here!" Monica looked behind her. "Cassie!" Her voice struck like the snap of fingers.

Cassie came out of her hiding place. "Hey, Ross," she said, her face breaking out into an involuntary ear-to-ear grin.

"Hey! Come on in." Ross snatched up her bag for her. Cassie turned to say goodbye to Monica- but Monica had already disappeared. "My God, it's great to see you! Look at you!"

"Look at YOU," countered Cassie, taking him in. He was taller than she'd ever imagined he would be. His hair, no longer the poof of his childhood or the gelled-up monstrosity of his early teen years, was neat and flat. He still had the same slow smile, the same warm glow about him, and the same eyes like mugs of hot chocolate. Yet in his tweed coat with the elbow patches, he looked every inch the professor. "Professor Geller," she remarked.

"It's great to see you," Ross repeated, a little foolishly, and then he pulled her into a hug.

It was awkward at first, as though he didn't know where to put his arms, as though he hadn't hugged his various wives millions of times. But within seconds it settled into warmth and familiarity. Ross still smelled like Old Spice, and the tweed felt nice against her cheek as she snuggled close to his chest. His hand rubbed her back up and down, a pleasant pressure. Then, abruptly, he let go.

"Would you like anything to drink?" he asked. "If I'd known you were staying with me, I'd have gotten orange juice. As it is, I only have passion fruit and guava."

"Water's fine," she said. "Oh- hey, do you have any wine?"

"Wine?" said Ross. "Sure, I think I have a bottle of pinot noir. That okay?"

"Yeah, absolutely," said Cassie. She sank into the couch.

"It's strange," Ross called from the kitchen. "I know you're Monica's age, but somehow the idea of you drinking is still weird."

"Well, you haven't seen me since I was thirteen," she replied. "The idea of you being a professor is what's weird to me. Ross Geller, entrusted with the molding and the shaping of young minds. Scary."

"Hey! I take my responsibilities very seriously," said Ross. He came to the couch, poured her a glass of wine, and poured one for himself. He leaned back on the opposite end of the couch from her and took a sip. He'd taken off his jacket and now wore a soft white button-down that had come a little untucked.

She didn't know why she's been so nervous about seeing Ross. Interacting with Ross after so many years was much easier and more natural than it had been with Monica.

"Uh-huh. So you don't ever, like, flirt with your students or anything, do you?"

Ross went pink. Not Red Ross. Pink Ross, blushing Ross. Tease-Me-sign Ross.

"There's a story, isn't there? Come on. Tell me."

"Oh, all right," said Ross. "I once dated a student. Happy?"

"Really? How old was she?"

"She was twenty. Go on. Throw me every joke you have. I guarantee I have heard them all."

"No, no. No jokes. I just want to know. What happened?"

"Well," said Ross, "she was great. We had a really good connection. Her father initially, well, threatened to get me fired, but I, uh, won him over with some dirty tactics."

"Dirty tactics! Sounds juicy."

Ross laughed and took a sip. "Not so much," he said. "I accidentally saw him, uh, dancing incriminatingly, and I threatened to tell Rachel about it."

"Rachel? Why would she care?"

"She was dating him at the time."

"WHAT? I thought Rachel dated you!"

Ross took a long sip of wine. "Rachel's- complicated."

"Fair enough," Cassie allowed. "So what happened with the twenty-year-old?"

"Well, I went over to visit her dorm once, and she and her friends were throwing water balloons, and I got fed up and yelled at them to stop, and one of the guys thought I was her dad."

"Oh no," said Cassie, torn between sympathy and a desire to laugh at the shudder that ran through Ross.

"Oh yes," said Ross. "I broke up with her right then and there. I told her we were in different stages of life and the gulf in maturity wasn't working."

"How did she take it?" asked Cassie, nursing her own wine. The hot glass and cool liquid made a delicious contrast.

"Very well," said Ross. "So well that I wondered if I was making a big mistake. Until she threw a water balloon at me and told me that I suck."

"No!" Cassie burst out laughing.

Ross laughed too. "It was pretty funny. I'm not going to lie."

"Well," said Cassie. "To abuse of power!" She held up her glass.

"To reconnecting after eighteen years as though no time has passed," said Ross quietly, clinking.

Cassie had never known what people meant when they talked about smiles that came deep down from the toes. She knew now.

"You know," Cassie admitted, "I've only been here five minutes, and I'm having a far better time than I was at Monica's."

"Don't tell her that," said Ross, a haunted look crossing his features. "She has to always be the best hostess."

"She was almost rude the way she kicked me out," said Cassie, her tongue loosened a bit by the wine. Or maybe it was just Ross. "But then again, her fiancé sure does like to stare."

"I really hope he doesn't get cold feet," mused Ross. "Chandler was my roommate through college. I'm amazed that he's been able to sustain a relationship as long as the one he's had with Monica. I'm even more amazed that he hasn't had a major freak-out about the wedding yet. I just hope he makes it through the ceremony without suddenly deciding that he misses his life of never-getting-laid slobhood."

"I hope so, too," said Cassie. "For his sake. I can't imagine Monica would grant him a quick death if he got cold feet, let alone allow him to live."

She and Ross both stared into the dark red liquid swirling in their glasses, contemplating the idea of being married to one such as Monica. They both loved Monica, but being related to her was far, far different from signing on to have and to hold.

"Well," said Ross. "In the interest of having a good time, what say we do something fun?"

"Like what?" Cassie grinned, remembering their midnight adventures, the trees they climbed, the rickety old playground, the drawing contests, the wrestling all over the floor.

Shit.

She'd gone so far without even thinking about that.

"I don't know," said Ross. "Want to watch a movie?"

At any other time, Cassie would have scoffed at the idea of wasting their catch-up time on something either of them could just as easily do alone. But maybe a movie would distract her from those shameful memories. Then she got an idea.

"Remember the tents camped out for the premiere of Return of the Jedi?" she said. "How you didn't invite me to hang out with your friends?"

Ross looked surprised. "You wanted to come with us?"

"Well, yeah," said Cassie. "I couldn't believe you didn't invite me. After all the obsessing we'd done together."

"Oh," said Ross, scratching the back of his neck, a gesture he'd done to camouflage nerves for as long as Cassie could remember. "I'm sorry. I had no idea. I figured you didn't want to be with me and a bunch of dorky boys."

"Well," said Cassie. "How about you and I watch it now?"

"Sure," said Ross. "I'll go make popcorn."

"Great!" said Cassie. She found the tape on his sleek bookshelf and popped it into the VCR. She pressed rewind and went to find the overhead light switch. She turned it off- both to enhance the movie experience, and to ensure that Ross couldn't see her face in case she blushed or did something similarly foolish again. She drank deeply from her wine glass as she fast forwarded through the previews. The apartment was silent but for the sounds of reeling tape and pops from the low-humming microwave. Cassie stopped the movie just as the "Twentieth Century Fox" logo began. The lead-up music, common to every "Twentieth Century Fox" film, was for her as integral to the Star Wars experience as the Imperial March or the perspective-text intro.

Ross came back to the couch with a couple of blankets under one arm and a salad bowl of popcorn balanced on the other. She took the blankets from him as he settled into the couch next to her. He placed the bowl in his lap, and she stacked the blankets on the arm of the couch to her left. His apartment was plenty warm.

Ross picked up the remote. His finger hovered on 'Play.' "Ready?" he asked, grinning at Cassie.

"As ever," said Cassie.

He started the movie.

For a long time, although both Gellers had seen "Return of the Jedi" countless times, neither of them spoke. They were too engrossed in the screen. They laughed and cringed and bit their nails as if they were watching it for the first time. As the gang escaped from Jabba's palace, both Ross and Cassie consumed most of the bottle of wine. Their hands scrambled for every remaining kernel of popcorn that had any puff to it at all.

Cassie was feeling the wine. She was flushed and her heartbeat had quickened. It was the wine and the excitement of one of her favorite movies. But something didn't add up. She wouldn't be feeling this way ordinarily. It was the nerves. She'd been so worked up over seeing Ross again, worried that he'd be awkward with her considering the sensuality of the last time they had been together. She shouldn't be worked up anymore. Ross was fine. She looked at the bowl to see if there was any more popcorn. She saw something that made her start.

She and Ross were holding hands.

They must have done it unconsciously, after the popcorn had run out and both of their fingers had scrambled for something to grab onto. They'd found each other's fingers. And in the excitement of the movie, they hadn't realized what they were doing enough to apologize and awkwardly jerk their hands away.

What to do? If she let go, then Ross would be alerted to their joined hands. She looked at his profile. He was absorbed in the movie. His expressive face told the story of what was happening on screen without her even needing to watch. He seemed unaware of the popcorn bowl situation.

Maybe it was best to leave their hands where they were, Cassie thought. They'd done so well so far. There had been no awkwardness. Awkwardness was the last thing Cassie needed.

Besides, his palm felt nice against hers.

She found herself completely distracted from the movie. She was tortured with impulses that she needed to control. She wanted to tighten her hand in his. She wanted to stroke the ridges of his palm with her thumb. She wanted to move closer to him, to swing his arm around her shoulders, to huddle against him, to lean into his chest. She wanted to scoot into his lap and twist around to him and press her cheek against his.

He's your COUSIN, she told herself. If he knew what you were thinking, he would think you were sick.

Or would he? The irrational, seductive devil-conscience purred from the other side of her brain. Let's back up a second. He was the one who suggested a movie. He was the one who said that it was though no time had passed from eighteen years ago- when we were all over each other all summer long. He was the one who brought the blankets and sat down right next to me instead of at the opposite corner of the couch. He was the one who must have grabbed my hand, since I don't remember grabbing his.

A hint of evergreen scented cologne reached her nose in addition to the Old Spice. Without thinking, Cassie leaned in closer to him to catch more of the scent.

Ross removed his fingers from hers.

Cassie froze.

She felt his hand close around her shoulder and swipe across her back. She relaxed into the curve of his arm. He moved the popcorn bowl to the side table as he gathered in. Their sides melted into each other like a puzzle with a pulse.

"This part always scares me too," he said softly.

Oh. He was being comforting and cousinly because he'd thought she'd leaned toward him in fright.

That was okay, Cassie told herself. Better, in fact. If Ross was feeling the way she was feeling, that would make things complicated and messy and just plain wrong. In the meantime, though, she could enjoy the closeness with him, the swift return to that special churn in her chest which she hadn't felt since she was thirteen. She'd had sex with many guys and had thought she'd loved each of her boyfriends, but this particular feeling could only come from Ross.


End file.
